


Sanctuary Respite

by oceansinmychest



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceansinmychest/pseuds/oceansinmychest
Summary: Ever the minx, Shelly makes the first move. She leans in, her eyes slightly open, the lashes framing them so beautifully that it leaves Norma enraptured. The wetness from Shelly's cheeks transfers to Norma's. Her lips taste like a steady, spring breeze and mint leaves.





	Sanctuary Respite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikoiio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikoiio/gifts).



> This is a blessed ship that I stand by. I cannot wait for the new season to give us some moments between these two! This is also another birthday gift for my friend!

The Double R Diner is their sanctuary, a safe haven away from the constant abuse and the complication of their daily lives. Red stools and cramped, plastic booths give the dive a retro look. Its alluring, neon lights steer many truck drivers from the course. For Shelly and Norma, the diner serves as a respite.

With four men between them, neither know what to do with these boys that pretend to be men.

Norma has high hopes for Shelly. She sees the young twenty-something breaking free from the simple, cookie cutter mold that Twin Peaks promises.

In Shelly, she sees a future rather than her past self.

Shelly's hair is up in that hilarious beehive after their lavished day at the spa. It looks hilarious on her, but it saddens Norma to see the look. She imagines Shelly to thrive anywhere but here. She pictures Shelly as a supermodel wife getting out of her Jaguar purchased by her millionaire husband. She envisions Shelly frontlining the cover of a magazine. She sees Shelly coasting down the highway with the convertible top rolled down, her hair wild and free, her laughter whimsical. It pains Norma to think about these different lives that Shelly Johnson has been robbed of.

The day's worn itself thin. The doors to this kingdom are locked shut with two lonely women left inside. Shelly Johnson slumps down to her knees that press together, the hem of her waitress uniform gently rising up her pale, creamy thighs. She twists a grey rag in her hands that work tirelessly. Poor thing wears herself out. Stresses about Bobby. Stresses about Leo.

Norma relates.

Silently, her feet tread across the ground. She kneels across the girl who thought she married a knight – much like herself. The blonde lifts her head, the gesture accompanied by a ghost of a grin.

Norma's brown, sympathetic eyes seem to say: _Beautiful girl, I'll love you since I could not love myself._

“It's alright to let it out,” Norma musters the strength to utter her condolences in the gentlest way possible, but Shelly's tear-filled eyes are a mirror.

Their fingers intertwine. Laced together, neither feel any callouses. The touch is soft, warm, and _safe_.

“Let's run away together, Norma.”

Shelly interrupts the silence, a fire burning within her bright, blue stare.

“I'd like that, Shelly,” she replies with an unsettling sorrow and a wounded smile.

She feeds the girl a hollow promise to stop the tears that threaten to fall.

The younger waitress' fingers seek out the collar of Norma's uniform. She pulls her closer, her heart humming, furiously pounding against her chest. Neither of them want to go home to their lives that are full of pain.

Ever the minx, Shelly makes the first move. She leans in, her eyes slightly open, the lashes framing them so beautifully that it leaves Norma enraptured. The wetness from Shelly's cheeks transfers to Norma's. Her lips taste like a steady, spring breeze and mint leaves.

There's a softness in kissing a woman. A softness that's so unlike the chapped, worn lips of a man.

Shelly's fingers sneak into Norma's wavy hair, pushing back the strands so they no longer frame her tired face. They fit together like a puzzle that forms a complete image. Shelly can smell Norma's perfume: the scent of lillies so overpowering that it wraps around her, akin to a sheet.

With a stricken sigh, Norma reciprocates. Her teeth work Shelly's bottom lip until it's swollen red. She stops herself from continuing, from falling deeper. Long, thin arms encircle Shelly in a sordid embrace that screams, “I'm sorry for all your pain. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't become me.”

Shelly buries her face into the older woman's neck, her lipstick leaving a red streak that's not ugly, but _beautiful_.

This town is a cage trapping them both.

 

 


End file.
